


Wind and Treasure

by Quilly



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Character Study, F/M, christmas present for moirail, vague nightmare fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-07
Updated: 2014-06-07
Packaged: 2018-02-03 17:36:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1753097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quilly/pseuds/Quilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your name is Vriska Serket and you're having a bad night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wind and Treasure

**Author's Note:**

> Christmas present for my moirail that I'm moving over here because I like how it turned out. Whee!

Your name is Vriska Serket and you’re having a nightmare.

 

This is common. You’ve done horrible things and you’ve seen horrible things, and all of this adds up to you being a horrible person (but inside the circle of John’s arms you know you’re not, not really, but still there’s that echo of a cracking teenager’s voice telling you he thinks he hates you and you _break_ —), so really, you shouldn’t be surprised that even your dreams are horrible.

You’ve always been afraid of ghosts most, maybe because you’ve always been afraid of the past, how quickly it’s over with, how much of a pull it has on the future, how you’re always the liar, the Thief, the one who’s wrong, does it matter that you’re always wrong if you get it right sometimes? You feel the slimy cool touch of old spirits hounding after your guts and you suck in a breath and try to scream, but your throat is too dry, you just can’t push it out no matter how hard you try—

And you’re awake now, sweating, half-sobbing, clawing at sheets (not sopor…? Oh, right) and still making horrible choked shrieks of terror, like a noose is around your neck and blind Justice is on the other end, _like she was any better, she killed almost as much as you did—_

John surrounds you, cocoons you in his squishy human warmth and presses his face into your shoulder, making shooshing noises that you would find offensively pale for someone you’re pailing if you didn’t know him any better, if you didn’t know you needed it, you curl your head into your knees and let him do what he can because he’s so _warm_ and you’re so _cold_.

He holds you like this a lot, but it never gets any easier, it never stops smacking of something on the edge of a lie when he tells you he loves you, but oh, you don’t care, you don’t care, you just don’t _care_ , you want him to tell you he loves you and he’s never going to leave you again every night for the rest of your exhaustingly long life. His funny human face scruff scratches your shoulder as he murmurs into your hair, _I’m here, I’m here, it’s okay, you’re okay, I’m here, Vriska_.

He’s made of wind and shade and he almost doesn’t feel real when you push him down and kiss him, but you’ve felt enough treasure slip right through your fingers to know that for now, he isn’t leaving, not for real, not for good.

You love this human very much but you wish sometimes that he felt the past like a heavy weight the same as you. He’s too light for the past to drag him down into nightmares. He’s too insubstantial. You’re a pirate and a thief and you’re made of greed and stolen gold, so you kiss and love and feel every inch of him, his skin like fine bronze and eyes like sapphires, and wonder if you buried him if you’d lose him for real this time.


End file.
